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She nodded. Now that she understood the scope of the danger, she was ready to hang up her Nancy Drew ways and let the feds handle it.
“There’s more to it though,” Samuel said and he looked like he was about to deliver bad news. “There are going to be invites to private parties.”
When Kimberly jolted, Dean made a calming sound, but she could see from the look in his eyes he wasn’t happy about this part either.
“These are what we’ve been hoping for,” Dean explained. “Unfortunately, we hadn’t planned on you getting thrown into the mix. We’re going to try to claim we want you ‘unsullied’ and see how long that gets us in and keeps you out. Obviously, you’ll be more exposed out of the club. It’ll be even more important that you stick to whatever protocol or rules we lay down for you. And Kimberly? Never leave our sides when we’re at one of those parties.”
She gulped. It looked like Nancy Drew was back in business.
“If we ever do get separated though,” Samuel said and turned Kimberly’s blood to ice, “you’ll have this.” He pushed a silver choker at her with a hefty-looking heart-shaped brass lock for a clasp. It was heavier than she expected. The lock was serious, and so was the collar.
“What’s this made of?” she asked, examining it closely.
“Titanium,” Dean told her and opened it up with his thumb print. “Only Sam and I can open this but we’ll program in your fingerprint too. It’s got a GPS tracker that can be picked up by satellite, a homing beacon we can zero in on from anywhere in the world, and look here.” Dean turned the collar around, not to where the clasp and lock were, where someone would fuck with it if they were trying to get it off, but opposite of that. “When this is on, that lock is going to pull the collar up under your chin. This spot is going to be just under here.”
He stroked his forefinger on her neck and made her swallow reflexively. That made him smile knowingly. The spot on the collar he was showing her was slightly indented. Not really noticeable unless you were looking for it, and even then, she lost sight of it as Dean continued to turn it for her inspection.
“Just like the lock is imprinted with our fingerprints, yours is going to activate this. Once we set it, all you’ll have to do is press that button, and it opens a line directly to our boss. You press that, not only will it start recording the second you do, but it’ll put him into action.”
“Whether we’re acting like we’re cool with being split up or not,” Samuel said, looking deadly serious, “you press that button as soon as you’re out of our sight. No matter what. Got that? Cas’ll be listening. He’ll be the judge of whether or not to send the calvary. Remember that. It’s not up to you to judge if the situation is serious enough.”
Kimberly nodded and offered her finger for imprinting before he’d finished talking. As far as she was concerned, she was pushing that button as soon as she stepped foot out of the car at a private party. Nancy Drew she may be, but a Bond girl she was not.
She closed her eyes, feeling defeated and not at all up for the challenge ahead of her. The men noticed, covered her hands in theirs, and stroked. Well, Kimberly thought as they both grazed fingers over remnants from last night’s play, maybe she had just a little Bond girl in her.
“So?” Kimberly had enough talking for now. She needed to move, take some form of action. “What’s the first step? Are you guys gonna give me a gun? ’Cause I’m gonna need lots of practice. I’ve ever even touched one before.”
“No, Kimberly.” Dean looked appalled. “No guns for you. Strictly civilian, remember?” He looked white as a ghost at the thought of her with a firearm, and she couldn’t help but bristle a little. It wasn’t like she couldn’t learn.
“We are going to do some practicing though,” Sam told her, and the look he gave her was the most guarded she’d seen from him. “If you’re ready, Dean and I need to work on your training. As our sub.” She looked into his earnest face and felt her stomach drop to her feet. “All three of us are in uncharted waters here,” he went on. “The only women—and there haven’t been many—we’ve shared have been experienced subs in a scene. It’s never been with a woman either of us were interested in, and they all went their merry way once the scene was over.”
“We’re not going to harp on this part,” Dean cut in, his hand going over one of hers, “but you don’t have to take us both if that’s not what you want. We just need to convince the bad guys that you do. In order to do that, you’ve got to get used to the feel of his hands on you.”
“And you’ve got to get used to taking orders from both of us,” Sam put in and had her jaw tucking back to her chest as she eyed him with eyebrows raised to her hairline.
“Orders?” she demanded, appalled.
“See?” Dean said, “That’s exactly what we’re talking about. In other clubs, submissives can get away with sass and bratty behavior.”
“This isn’t that kind of club, Kimberly.” Sam’s solemn tone said a lot more than his words did.
She gulped. Again, she was reminded of the danger, of the lives at stake—including their own if things went wrong. And there were so many things that could go wrong. So many of them were out of her control. She eyed them in contemplative silence.
There was only one thing she had control over in all of this—her own actions.
“No,” Kimberly told them and watched disappointed acceptance cross Sam’s face as he nodded. “No, I’m not doing this half-assed and risking a screw-up. Last night was the closest I’ve ever come to a threesome.” She couldn’t help the blush; it came as much from remembering their scene as it did from the heart-melting smile that bloomed like a sunrise across Sam’s face. “I could wish this all came about a different way, but if wishes were horses, right? The thing is, no matter the circumstances of how we met, I couldn’t imagine trusting anybody with my body other than you two.”Or my heart,but she didn’t say that part aloud.
“Let’s get started then.”
CHAPTERTEN
Dean stoodwith a purposefulness she’d only seen inside the club, and it had the same effect here in the California sunshine as it did in the artificial gloom of the Lion’s Den. She stood. Sam walked close behind her as Dean led the way into the house, and Kimberly felt like she was entering another world.
They led her past a huge gleaming kitchen and down a hallway to what looked like a high-class gentlemen’s lounge. A pervy one. One third of the back wall was lined with a leather-encased bar. Behind that were at least a hundred bottles. Fancy glasses hung from silver racks above the booze, and they must’ve been crystal, she thought in amazement, because the cut in the design caught in the lights and shot tiny rainbows everywhere.
Along another wall sat the biggest four-post bed she had ever seen. The beautifully carved wood was a rich reddish-brown that matched the bar top, and it was covered in emerald satin sheets with a few dark, cherry-red pillows that added a gorgeous accent. The hooks and brackets for bondage were so beautifully woven into the design she wouldn’t have even noticed what they were if she hadn’t been looking so closely.
There were racks of floggers and whips like she’d seen at the club, a long counter that had an array of fire play tools she recognized, and— “Oh my God!” Kimberly came to a dead stop and gaped in horror. “Is that a freaking gyno table?”
